


Worthy of Respect

by Chthonia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diagon Alley, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-17
Updated: 2006-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chthonia/pseuds/Chthonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ron returns from Egypt, holiday memories and the upcoming Quidditch season push his sister's recent ordeal to the back of his mind ... until he comes face to face with Lucius Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worthy of Respect

 

_This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a streamlined superfine handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number..._

Ron didn't need to read the sign. He knew it off by heart.

He was supposed to be packing, but he'd _had_ to come back for one more look. So he'd dumped his things on Percy's bed and sneaked out of The Leaky Cauldron - alone. Harry felt the same way he did about the Firebolt, he knew, but Harry had enough gold to buy it. That shouldn't have made a difference, but it did.

"Like it?" The gangly shop assistant was grinning at him from behind the counter, but in a friendly sort of way.

Ron shrugged, and grinned back. "It's alright." Meaning, he'd sell his sister if-

No, he wouldn't.

"You're Charlie Weasley's brother, aren't you?"

He hated that question. "I'm Ron Weasley."

"Marv Wright," said the shop assistant, leaning forwards. "Charlie was in the year above me in Hogwarts. He went off chasing dragons, didn't he?"

"Yeah." Ron picked up a Starter Snitch from a nearby basket and rolled it round in his hand.

"Well, if you're anywhere near as good as him at Quidditch, maybe you'll be back for one of those when you're playing in the League!"

Ron laughed. "Who d'you support, then?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. He knew his cheeks had gone red, even though Marv's compliment had really nothing to do with him.

"Tutshill Tornados. You?"

Ron grimaced. "Cannons."

Marv laughed. "Well, no-one's going to accuse _you_ of being a fair-weather fan."

"They'd better not! Don't you just hate it when-"

But the door to the shop opened, an elderly witch shuffled in, and Marv was soon engrossed in helping her choose a suitable present for her grandson. Ron turned back to the Firebolt, slightly disappointed: Harry and he could talk about Quidditch for hours, but sometimes Harry didn't seem to get it when he talked about the Cannons, and the League, and how annoying it was that certain teams were popular just because they were winning. Harry had played for Gryffindor before he'd even seen a match - he'd never know what it was like to be in the stands, watching his heroes and dreaming that one day he'd be up there too...

Ron had learned not to believe in dreams - years of poring over _Which Broomstick_ and leaving carefully marked copies around the house just before his birthday had never come to anything. But then there was the _Daily Prophet_ draw...

Why did luck have to be limited? Why couldn't they have won enough money for a decent broom, schoolbooks that didn't fall apart, an owl that was actually capable of delivering a letter, as well the trip to Egypt?

Not that he wasn't grateful for that - it had been a fantastic holiday, seeing Bill, looking at the mysterious artefacts in the poky little shops, lying in the sun. And he had a wand, his own wand. New. Willow and unicorn hair, fourteen inches.

He put his hand in his pocket to check it was still there, wondering if he dared to touch the Firebolt. What would it be like to ride a broom like that?

"Dream on, Weasley."

Ron groaned inwardly. Malfoy. Bloody Malfoy. This was more his luck - why did that smarmy little git have to be here, _now_?

"What're you doing here, Malfoy? Shopping for another bribe so you can keep your place on the Slytherin team?"

Malfoy scowled. "Actually, I'd have thought you'd be doing that - or has your dad already frittered away all that gold he won? Not that any team in its right mind would let _you_ in, even if you had one of these." He reached up and stroked the Firebolt's long ash handle. The broom quivered slightly.

Ron clenched his fists, squeezing the inert Snitch as hard as he could. If Hermione were here, or even Harry, they'd have come back with something equally cutting, but whenever he faced that- that- stuck up, pasty-faced _git_ , all he could think of was punching and punching and punching until Malfoy stopped sneering and started treating him with some _respect_.

"Actually," said Malfoy lazily, "we just got back from Italy yesterday. And I _was_ hoping to get my school things without having to share the shops with people so poor that even their holidays make the headlines."

"Shut your face, Malfoy."

"Or what? Going to start a fight? Just like your dad last year?"

"I said, shut _up_!" Ron took a step forward.

Behind Malfoy, the shop door opened. Ron froze - could this day get any worse?

Malfoy's father stepped into the shop, glancing at the two boys. "Come, Draco. We don't want to be late for dinner." He turned to go.

Malfoy sent one last mocking smirk at Ron. But Ron didn't see it.

Malfoy was an annoying little toad, but his father... Lucius Malfoy was _evil_. Last time Ron had seen him he'd been trying to sack Professor Dumbledore, and then he'd almost killed Ginny, and now he was just standing there as if he owned the whole shop and he, Ron, wasn't even a speck of dirt on the floor...

He wanted to kill him. He wanted to smash that little superior smile right through the bastard's skull and jump up and down on his head and that wouldn't even start to pay him back for what he'd done to Ginny-

He hurled the little ball in his hand straight at Lucius Malfoy's head.

Lucius spun round, his hand raised as red light streamed from his wand and the Snitch exploded, blasting shards across the shop. Malfoy yelled and dropped to the floor.

Ron wiped a trickle of blood from his face.

Lucius glared at Ron, then turned to Marv, who was standing open-mouthed behind the counter. "I'm sure Arthur Weasley will pay for the damage," he said. "Attacking people in shops seems to have become a family pastime - in future you might want to think twice about letting his delinquent sons over the threshold."

"I am not delinquent!" Ron snapped.

Lucius shrugged, then glanced at his son. "Get up, Draco," he said. "Your mother will be expecting us."

"At least I'm not a murderer!" shouted Ron.

Lucius Malfoy turned slowly. There was no supercilious smile on his face now, no expression at all.

"What did you say, boy?"

"You- you tried to kill my sister!"

Lucius walked towards him. He was still holding his wand, Ron realised, and he thrust his hand into his pocket for his own.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," said Lucius softly. "You're in quite enough trouble as it is."

His wand was pointed at Ron's face, only an inch from his chin.

Ron resolutely ignored it. Years of fighting his brothers had taught him to watch an opponent's face. And watching Lucius Malfoy's face, he knew that everything his Dad had said about the man was true.

"As for your sister," he went on, "from what I heard, she was dabbling in magic that was too strong for her. Not something you'd want spread around, I'm sure, but if you force me to defend myself against such wild accusations..."

The man's eyes weren't just cold - they were dead.

He would not back away. If Dad could stand up to Lucius Malfoy - even _before_ Ginny - so would he.

"You won't get away with it," he said. "Not if Dad has anything to do with it."

Lucius Malfoy snorted. "I think I'll manage to sleep at night." He turned away.

Behind him, Malfoy had got to his feet and recovered enough to smirk at Ron before he turned to follow his father out of the shop.

"He knows about the stuff hidden under your drawing-room floor!" Ron called after them.

Lucius Malfoy paused, then laughed. "What active imaginations some people have! Wherever did you get that from?"

"Draco told me."

Malfoy stared. "I didn't, Father, I never told him anything-"

"Because there was nothing to tell." Lucius Malfoy glared at his son. "It's quite all right, Draco. I know you boys like to wind each other up every now and then - but sometimes it's best not to be too convincing, hmm?"

But something in Lucius Malfoy's voice told Ron that it was not all right at all - and judging by the look on Draco's face, he didn't think it was all right either. Ron didn't bother to suppress a grin as they left the shop.

He looked over at Marv, who was still staring.

"Don't worry about the Snitch and all that," Marv told him. "I'll sort it out with the boss. He's not overly fond of Lucius Malfoy either, except when he's handing over bags of gold."

"Thanks," said Ron. "Look - I'd better be getting back."

"Well, see you about," said Marv. "And say hi to Charlie from me, won't you?"

"Okay." Ron headed for the door.

"Oh - and Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"That was a bloody good shot, by the way. You should think about trying for Beater."

Ron grinned, shaking his head. "Thanks. See you later."

"Bye."

Marv was okay, Ron thought as he walked back to The Leaky Cauldron, even if the way he talked about Charlie reminded him a little too much of Colin Creevey’s obsession with Harry. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand... He wouldn't get away with that he'd done to Ginny. The Malfoys were going to get what they deserved - the Weasleys would make sure of it.

Lucius Malfoy had better watch out.


End file.
